


us against the world

by ameliajessica



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 06:25:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameliajessica/pseuds/ameliajessica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do Time Lords not sleep then?” He whips round and there she is, ginger hair being pulled up into a bun as she walks down the stairs. No, not walks. Saunters, he supposes. He can only watch as she moves towards him, easy but with a caution that wasn’t there before. Ah yes, married. That would be why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	us against the world

“Do Time Lords not sleep then?” He whips round and there she is, ginger hair being pulled up into a bun as she walks down the stairs. No, not walks. Saunters, he supposes. He can only watch as she moves towards him, easy but with a caution that wasn’t there before. Ah yes, married. That would be why. 

“I mean.” Her voice is slow and soft. Warm, but most of all familiar. “All that time I was with you, I never remember you going to bed. And right now, it’s the middle of the night.”

“Well what about you? It’s your wedding night, shouldn’t you be… doing whatever newlyweds do.” He makes a vague gesture with his hand to match with his grimace. She laughs and pushes him lightly.

“As if you don’t know, raggedy man. I bet you get up to all sorts.”

“Got,” he corrects, too quickly, and Amy dissolves in laughter again. Looking at her, The Doctor can’t find it in his heart to be annoyed. 

She’s taken her hair down and as he turns around, it’s just there, curling around her face, all loose and… ginger. After a few more fiddling with switches (which he really didn’t need to do), he settles himself beside her on the small seat next to the console. He’s still focusing on it when he’s next to her, brushing at the orange ends thoughtfully. Their eyes meet carefully, but Amy clears her throat when he looks away.

“Where next?” 

“I haven’t the faintest,” he admits, sighing. “She never listens to me, really, so we’ll just have to see.”

The Doctor looks her up and down. Hard to believe they were both here, still. Well, not her. He knew she’d be alright; she always had to be, that was his rule. One of the new ones: Amy is always alright, at least in the very end. And it worked: she is alright. She’s married, to Rory, the boy who waited 2000 years to keep her safe; with her being the girl who waited it seems obvious that they would fit together. (But she didn’t wait for him, he reminds himself, but pushes it down.)

“Look at you.” Her smile becomes humble and she laughs uncertainly. “Amelia Jessica… Williams, now, I suppose.”

She makes a disgusted face, which he snorts at. “No thanks. I talked to Rory; it’s Pond. Always Pond.”

“Never anything else,” he agrees, finds his voice too broken - too fond - and immediately leaps away from his seat and back to the console, where he feels safe. “But still, Mrs Pond. How does that feel?”

“A bit strange,” she admits, letting out a nervous sigh. “I mean I never thought I’d be the settling down type, honestly, and I can’t imagine I’ll be much of a… typical wife. But Rory seems happy. So I’m happy.”

He lets out a hum.

“And I do love him, and stuff.”

The Doctor coughs.

Several seconds go by, only the quiet purr of the TARDIS engine keeping them from being in absolute silence and it’s comforting to The Doctor, to hear the mechanical whirring of the machine but also that she’s still there, still with him. Even if it won’t be forever; it never is, after all. 

“It could have been you, you know,” she murmurs. “I could have… chosen. You.”

He doesn’t think it’s the time for him to say anything, so he lets her carry on, because it looks like she’s got enough to say for both of them. For now, at least.

“And I know it sounds terrible, like it should be an… end all, kind of deal but it isn’t. I could have been happy, with you. Maybe happier, I don’t know.” She’s starting to get annoyed and stands too, bracing herself against the console, with him on the other side of it. 

“Why are you telling me this now, Amy?” he asks as kindly as he can.

“Because you’re looking at me with those big, wet eyes full of regret and I… I want you to know that it’s your fault!” she shouts, before realising her aforementioned husband could wake up if she raised her voice too high. 

“That is,” he splutters, “I am not— I.”

“Doctor, please.” Now her eyes are filling too, her lips pursing to stop them from trembling. And he has nothing to say to that, so he doesn’t. He just runs a hand through his hand and sighs deeply. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she mumbles, coming around to his side of the TARDIS. “When it was just the two of us, you know I would have… I would have left it all.”

He can’t stand to see her tears, finds himself suddenly rushing to her and cupping her face in his hands. “Because you’re human,” he says, “it wouldn’t have been fair. I can live for as long as I like and you cannot. Because it’s not safe. Because you love him.” He smiles. “And stuff.”

Her features begin to contort in frustration before she presses an anxious kiss to his mouth and his shoulders sag and his face relaxes as he feels her cheek under his palm and lets himself kiss her. Lets them kiss. She starts sniffling but she doesn’t give up, following him when he pulls away, each time giving him a small, innocent peck to bring him back to her again. And it’s not quite right, but definitely not entirely wrong. It’s something else, he decides, before pulling away for good. 

Amy looks unbearably sad and all he can think is how could he have managed to mess up this beautiful girl who waited all night in her garden to run away with him and who twelve odd years later still has that same dream and her heart is breaking from the impossibility of it. She catches his pitiful gaze and pushes him with her shoulder, in a kind of, “you’ve got no-one else to blame,” way that is both playful and deathly true. Then Amy laughs, like she always does, and wipes at her eyes. 

“In another life, eh Doctor?” she asks, somehow her voice full of hope.

“You have no idea, Amelia Pond,” he promises, kissing her hands, and sends her off to bed.


End file.
